


Young Like Me

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Drama, M/M, episode-related, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-11
Updated: 2004-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 08:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/354545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say the good die young. (Crossover with Dead Like Me; Clark/Lex pairing is implied.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young Like Me

## Young Like Me

by Cass Alexandra

<http://www.lexicity.net/cassalexandra/Fiction.html>

* * *

Title: Young Like Me  
Category: Angst, Crossover, Drama, Hurt-Comfort, Episode-Related Spoilers: Ryan  
Rating: PG  
Pairing: Clark/Lex implied  
Summary: They say the good die young. 

Author's Note: This story was written for DigitalWave. I have a lot of people to thank for helping to make this story as good as it is: Luvmax1 and Serafina20 for info on the episode _Ryan_ , PepperjackCandy for info on the episode _Stray_ , Joanne_C and RontgenKatze for audiencing, and Astrea9562 for beta reading. Thanks to everyone who helped make this story what it is. 

R. James  
Smallville General  
E.T.D. 9:03pm 

* * *

See the post-it here: <http://www.lexicity.net/cassalexandra/Pictures/Postit.jpg>

* * *

They say the good die young. Up until now I thought _they_ were talking about me. Not that I was that good, but it's not like I was horrible either. It's just that I thought, you know, I died pretty young. 

I think I was wrong though. I never really thought about it, but people younger than me die every day. I was just too caught up in my own tragic life and death to really notice the younger people. 

Until today I haven't had to reap anyone younger than me. At least, not much younger. Not so young they probably can't get into a PG-13 movie on their own. 

Why do people this young die? You should at least be old enough to have raised a little hell before you die. Not that I ever raised any hell. I didn't even babysit hell. 

Okay, so that didn't make any sense. But you know what I'm saying. 

This kid shouldn't be dying. He's so young. When you're a reaper, you're not supposed to care, you know? Everybody dies eventually and it's your job to show them where to go. It would be nice if I actually knew where they were going after I took care of them. Of course, if I wanted to know, I could always follow one of them. Only problem is I wouldn't be able to come back. 

It's not that I couldn't handle leaving. I just know that Mom and Reggie aren't ready for me to leave. Sure, Mom tries to pretend I never existed, because when she admits that I did she has to deal with the fact that I'm not there anymore. But Reggie knows I'm still here, and that helps her help Mom, even though they don't get along all the time. If I left, Reggie wouldn't have that. 

Of course, there's always the possibility that Reggie is just crazy, and would still think I'm here even if I'm not. Maybe it's not me being here that makes me here for her. Maybe it's her wanting me to be here that makes me here. And wouldn't that be fucked up? 

"Oh, sorry..." 

Note to self: When standing at the window looking at your assignment, don't turn suddenly into large flannel-wearing men. Except this one looks almost as young as my assignment, even if he is about three feet taller. 

"It's okay, I was just checking on Ryan." That's the name the receptionist gave me, right? I have _got_ to pay better attention. 

"Is he okay?" The guy is anxious like it's a big surprise this kid is going to die. It's sad, really. I wonder if he'll still be here when I have to take Ryan. 

"Why don't you go in and ask him yourself?" It's the least I can do. Less even then trying not to be sarcastic, because it gets old being the one to start the death process. It's starting to wear on me. Kind of like Happy Time. 

"I can do that?" He's probably never been sarcastic in his life. I put a hand on his shoulder, or try to, but it's kind of a stretch. What is he, two feet taller than _me_? I know I'm short, but sheesh! How can he look so young and be so tall at the same time? "Thanks." 

I wonder who's going to reap him when it's his time. I wonder how he'll die. He looks strong for a kid his age, but I already knew he's _tall_ for any age. The way he's looking at Ryan, though, like the last kid on earth, like his _own_ kid, he'll probably die young too. Although not as young as Ryan. 

"Hey, Clark." 

Well, this is depressing. Why do I do this to myself? Clark probably doesn't even know Ryan is going to die tonight. The brave faces are for each other, not themselves. They're probably both all alone in the world, with only each other to share in their unique pain and suffering. You can see it in their faces. Their brave, innocent little faces, trying to pretend the end isn't near. 

There's got to be a vending machine around here somewhere. 

"Excuse me..." 

It's not polite to stare. It's not polite to stare. What, I'm dead. I can't stare? "Yes?" 

Mr. Bald, Pale, and Handsome is looking at my nametag, then checking his watch. "Visiting hours aren't over yet, are they?" 

I would look at my own watch, if I had one. "Not for twenty-seven minutes, but there's already someone in there. You should probably wait until he comes out." 

What the _heck_ is that smirk for? "Yes, I probably should. Thank you, ...?" 

Matching his smirk, I hold out my hand, palm down. What's the point of depressing myself if I can't have a little fun while I'm here? "It's Georgia. And you are?" 

He doesn't even take my hand. Bastard. "I'll wait in the lobby." No name, either. Hm. Mysterious. 

Mysterious Mr. BP &H waits in the lobby, staring at the door the whole time. You'd think there was something special about this kid. 

There's a digital clock on the vending machine. I have twenty-five minutes to kill. 

* * *

"How's he doing?" 

Bald, Pale, and Handsome is also a leaner. Not to me, to too-tall flannel boy. Clark doesn't seem to notice. "He seems better, actually." The smile is for show, too, but it looks like Clark is hiding more than his anxiety. These two are like opposite ends of a magnet, drawn toward each other but there's so much tension I can't tell why they're not flying apart. 

I need some caffeine. I don't usually pay this much attention to the people around my reaps. But the stupid vending machine isn't working, and banging doesn't help. 

Whatever. I have a job to do as soon as The Tense Bald One is looking the other way. 

I manage to slip inside while they're talking. Neither of the guys pay much attention to me. You'd think they were gay. 

Ryan notices me though. He has a sweet smile for a kid who looks like he knows he's about to die. Putting on a brave face for the world around him. 

"Hey, kid." I never liked dealing kids when I was alive, never mind dead. Never had to _reap_ one before. "You thirsty?" 

It seems wrong to mark him like that when I pass him the cup of water. His smile is too pure. I feel like Hitler. Anyway, the deed's done, and I join Clark outside. We watch his friend with Ryan. 

"Lex is a really good guy, you know." He's talking to me as if I care. "Sometimes he just has to work at it." 

"Uh huh." This is the weirdest reap I've ever done. I can't wait for visiting hours to be over. 

I wish this didn't have to be so _nice_. There's something companionable about standing next to Clark. Maybe it's the flannel. Maybe it's the way he's so quiet, like talking will shatter the air and Ryan will die from the attention. 

This town is doing weird things to my brain. It has to be the lighting. The hospital is a fricking discotheque. 

Telling the guys they have to leave at nine has to be the nicest thing I've ever done for anyone. I don't usually care who sees who dies but they care too much. I can't let them watch this kid go. They stand outside the window, watching, for too long. How long can I be inconspicuous? Can't they just _leave_? 

The second hand ticks a hundred and twenty times before they finally start making their way to the lobby. They're not there for Ryan's last minute, but I am. And it's just as bad as I thought it would be. 

* * *

"I'm not in there any more." I've never heard so much awe in someone's voice, especially someone who's dead. This isn't right. This little kid shouldn't be dead. "It's okay, George. It's better this way." 

"How did you know my name?" That's supposed to be his line. 

"That's supposed to be my line." The kid is a little imp. No wonder he's dead. "What happens next?" 

"If it was up to me?" 

"You can't put tape over my mouth." There's a little hand in mine. Why didn't I ever want to have kids? Oh right, because they're all little brats. "I'm not a brat. Just precocious to deal with my failing health. Actually, my death now. But you use sarcasm the same way, don't you?" 

What is it with this kid? "That's not your business. Let's go." 

"I'm not ready to go." He sounds scared now. Wonder what I did this time. "Just one more thing, please." 

* * *

None of my reaps have ever made me follow a car. Fortunately for me, flannel boy doesn't drive too fast. Fortunate because Ryan and I don't have a car. 

We follow him to an honest-to-God farm in the middle of nowhere. There are plenty of nice shadows to hide in and listen. 

"Clark." That's the sound of a mother, for sure. One with the weight of the world on her shoulders. "The hospital called while you were gone." 

"Yeah, I just got back. Ryan looked better." 

I can practically see that hopeful smile. So sad. Someone squeezes my hand and I almost shriek before I realize it's Ryan. Good job blowing your cover, George. 

"Sweetie, he's not better." If Clark noticed my little freak-out, he isn't mentioning it. His feet are dragging on the floor. "The hospital called to say he... didn't make it. I'm so sorry, Clark." 

_This_ is what Ryan wanted to come here for? "Yes," he whispers, and I'm starting to wonder how this kid keeps reading my mind. "Clark was always there. He's like me." 

"Like you? How?" It's not like I suddenly care. It's just courteous to show interest when the person you reaped is talking to you. 

"You don't have to do that, you know." Ryan's leading me somewhere. Tall field of corn... hey, why am I letting this kid lead me around anyway? Oh well, I'm already dead. It's not like I have to worry about my safety. "Can you... can you tell Clark I'm okay?" 

"Ryan..." I don't think I've ever crouched down before. "I can't. That's against the rules." I shouldn't feel bad about it. But this kid... 

"It's okay." Ryan gives my hand a reassuring pat, and looks up at me. Aren't I supposed to be the one leading him? 

Ryan's focus is elsewhere now. Through the kitchen window, we can see Clark's mother hugging him close. There's so much fierce love in her embrace. I miss that. But Mom never was one for hugs, not for me when I was alive, not for Reggie now. Poor Reggie. I should check on her tonight. 

"I think I'm ready to go now." Ryan stands up and I follow suit, ready to watch him go. Ready to wonder what's on the other side again. "George?" 

Everyone should have a child to look up at them like this. "Yeah, Ryan?" I hope I never have a reap a child again. It's too painful. But since when do any of these assignments get to me? 

"Your mom loves you. She just doesn't know how to deal with it." 

Deal with loving me? 

"Yeah. And losing you, too." That face is too clear to be hiding so much. And I know the little brat is hiding something. Because I know I didn't say the last thing out loud. "At least you had parents who loved you, who missed you when you were gone." 

"Actually, my dad-" 

"Clark was the only person I had. Take care of him if you can, okay?" Ryan is whispering again, despite the fact that there's no way anyone can hear us for miles in this godforsaken place. "I don't think he can die, but if he can, I want you to take care of him, like you took care of me." 

Only angels have smiles like that. Maybe God hasn't forsaken this place after all. "I'll see what I can do." And in a very uncharacteristic move, I reach down and rub away an invisible smudge on that baby's cheek. I should have wanted to have kids. 

I miss Reggie. 

"Goodbye, George." 

Ryan disappears. 

"Bye, Ryan." The job is finally getting to me. "Thanks." 


End file.
